


Hollows

by VeggiesforPresident (luridCavum)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Godfather Sirius, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:15:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23735980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luridCavum/pseuds/VeggiesforPresident
Summary: "Very well, Mister Black. Harry Potter is yours."A Godfather!Sirius AU
Relationships: Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 118





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic in the grand tradition of canon divergent Dad!Sirius AUs
> 
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to make it clear I don't condone JK Rowling's transphobia

“So then,” Dumbledore says, watching a tawny owl disappear into the early morning light, “the boy.”

Sirius shifts in his seat. The child in question is fast asleep in his lap, a state which Sirius is deeply envious of.

“Yeah,” Sirius says, rubbing the circles under his eyes, “Him.”

Dumbledore turns around, “Yes?”

“Look, sir, we didn't know-- We thought – Peter could be a bit of a git, sure, but we'd never thought he would...”

“Yes?” Dumbledore asks, a touch of impatience in his tone.

Sirius clears his throat and looks down at Harry. He tries again. “I wanted to kill him, sir,” he says, “and I almost went looking for him, y'know. But when I heard form Hagrid what you meant to do with Harry, I knew where I needed to be.”

Harry snorts and wriggles in his sleep. The lightning-bolt on his forehead is puckered and raw, stark against Harry's brown skin.

“Ah, Hagrid,” Dumbledore muses, as if he's just heard a not-particularly funny joke for one too many a time.

Sirius looks up at Dumbledore through his shaggy hair. The dawning sunlight behind the headmaster hurts Sirius' eyes. “So, I got Harry and I came here.”

“So you did,” Dumbledore says. He pinches out a candle floating near his ear. “And?”

Sirius sits up straighter, “And... I want to keep him.”

Dumbledore remains just as far away, the flame of sunshine rising steadily behind him, filling the room, drowning Sirius with it.

“Do you? The plans I had made were intended to keep Harry safe.”

“But that wasn't what James and Lily wanted!”

Dumbledore is silent.

“Your new plan was bollocks,” Sirius says, before he can stop himself.

Dumbledore raises an eyebrow.

“Muggles! You were going to leave Harry with those Muggles -- Lily's sister! I've heard the stories, sir, and I'm sure you have, too. Do you know what they think of our kind?”

Dumbledore looks impassive, “I do. But he would be safe.”

“Sir,” Sirius pulls Harry closer to him, the warmth of the boy's small body pooling out of the blanket he's swaddled in. Harry begins to snore a little in his sleep. “Sir. Harry is my family.”

Sirius takes a deep breath. Harry shifts.

“Please,” He says, “Please let me keep him.”

Dumbledore pinches out another candle as the sunshine gets brighter.

“We will do our best to keep him safe no matter where he is. But Mister Black, a lot can change in a year. You can't just dump him back on Lily when you're done playing Boffins and Broomsticks with him. Beside, you are young. Who's to say you don't find a nice witch next month, who doesn't want to marry a wizard saddled with someone else's child? What then?”

The idea is abhorrent to Sirius for a number of reasons. He doesn't realize he's holding Harry even closer until Harry begins to whine. Sirius loosens his grip and tucks Harry's shaggy hair behind his soft ear. He looks so much like James.

When he looks up, Dumbledore is watching him.

“Are you ready to take on that risk?” Dumbledore asks cooly.

“Yes. Absolutely.”

Dumbledore pauses, and Sirius is almost certain it's for the effect of making Sirius sweat rather than him actually thinking it over. Finally, Dumbledore speaks. “Very well, Mister Black. Harry Potter is yours.”


	2. Chapter 1

Marlene is beginning to wonder just how much longer she can do this for. Not serving the Order-- she'll do that til her last breath. But the chasing. The tracking at all hours. Cramming herself in with Dorcas or Edgar in a dingy house or a closed down bar day in and day out, just to get a scrap of evidence. Pettigrew is proving erratic, and harder to track than most. He'd be seen in two places at once, half a country apart, and then not again for another fortnight. 

But they're getting closer, or at least Marlene hopes. They've tracked Pettigrew to a wizard-heavy town south of Glasgow. Marlene breathed a sigh of relief when Edgar broke the news. That was really the worst of it, she had decided. Having to keep the magic under wraps in Muggle-heavy areas.

“Was it an Order member saw him last?”

“Yeah. Remus. At least, he tipped off the Order.”

“What's Lupin doing all the way up here?” Marlene asks.

“No idea,” Edgar shrugs.

“He's an odd one,” Marlene says, thinking on the few times she'd interacted with Lupin in the last few years. He was nice enough, but there was something about him she couldn't put a finger on. It made her suspicious.

“That 'e is,” Edgar says, “But I think the Potters trusted him enough.”

Edgar's a handful of years older than Marlene, though he looks older. The lines around his eyes are deep set. He recently acquired glasses, and they sit small and oval on the bridge of his nose.

“Hm,” Marlene hums.

Marlene plops herself on the couch and a layer of dust poofs up. Marlene watches Edgar watch it float in the early evening light. They're in an infrequently-used Order hideout, a house just outside the center of town. All the furniture is covered in dust and smells very slightly of decay. They've been too tired to do any cleaning spells after getting in at midnight.

“Anyway. Remus let the local Aurors know what's going on. Me and Dory have cast anti-travel spells over the town, so anyone who tries to come or go for the next week won't be able to,” Edgar says, “No Apparation, no brooms, none of it. They're working on a radio broadcast now. But if Peter's here, he's staying here.”

“Great,” Marlene says, brushing her bangs back out from her eyes, “I fuckin' hope he's here.”

“Me, too.”

They reinforce their personal protection charms before they get too tired.

Dory comes back with food a little while later, some noodle soup that's gone lukewarm. Edgar introduces the password charm to the front door.

“Did you hear about the Potter kid?” Dory asks, starting a warming spell for their soups.

“No, why?”

“I just got word from Kingsley; Black's taking him in.”

“Sirius?”

“Yeah, seriously.”

“No, I mean--” Marlene closes her eyes, “Sirius Black?”

“Oh. Yeah, him.”

“Hm,” Marlene said. Well, Marlene liked Sirius well enough. He was a bit of a rascal, though, if she remembered right.

“Should we be sharing that information so freely?” Edgar asks, while making a face at the boiled egg he just bit into.

Dory shrugs after a moment of thinking, “He _is_ an Order member.”

“Fair enough.”

“Yeah. How's your soup?”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“Oh, Dory, you should re-up your protection charms,” Marlene says.

“Oh, good idea.”

The sun is beginning to set outside, casting long gold shadows over the otherwise dingy room.

They chat while Dory does her spells. Marlene settles in for a long, long week. At least for now, the company isn't bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll get back to sirius soon, i promise, we just needed to visit some allies first!


	3. Chapter 2

Sirius is roused from the nap he didn't know he was taking to something very sharp poking him in the nose. He grabs for his wand before he makes sense of the blurry shapes in front of him-- which turns out to be Harry, hitting him gently in the nose with a hardback book.

“Oh,” Sirius says groggily, letting go of his wand, “Hey you.”

Harry continues his assault until Sirius sits up.

“We gotta get you a nickname. 'Harry' just won't do,” Sirius muses.

“Arry,” Harry says.

“Yeah, Harry. It's not a bad name, but it doesn't have that – that spark.”

“Sak,” Harry says.

“Right, it needs a spark,” Sirius says, “Hm. I'll think of something. You want me to read to you?”

Harry nods.

Sirius takes the book from him. Ah. Babbity Rabbit. A classic, something every wizard child should read. Sirius has read it to Harry approximately a million times in the last two weeks alone, but Sirius is quickly discovering he can't say no when Harry looks at him with those imploring eyes.

It's a weakness, really.

Sirius hoists Harry up and lets Harry settle into his side. Harry's been sitting up just fine for a while now, but Sirius likes being able to be a pillar for the lad.  
Sirius reads.

He gets all the way through Babbity Rabbit and halfway through the next story in the collection, when Sirius feels Harry's little body slump against his side. Sirius stops and watches for a moment. Quietly, he sets the book down on the carpet.

Molly is coming over in an hour. He needs to be careful.

Sirius nudges Harry over to lean against the arm of the couch, and transforms into Padfoot.

Harry half wakes at the change, but Padfoot nuzzles his nose under Harry's arm, and Harry falls back asleep. Padfoot can smell the apple juice Harry had earlier, including the bit that got in his hair. He can feel the sleep radiating off him. Sirius is pretty in-tune with Harry's moods, at least he thinks so, but Padfoot is better.

Out in the market today, Harry had watched a redheaded woman go by. Sirius should have noticed, but he had been too busy comparing two identical brands of yohgurt. Harry had begun to squirm in his seat, and when the woman didn't turn around for him, he started to cry.

Padfoot can smell the memory of tears on Harry's skin.

Sirius had had to take Harry out of the store. He muttered an apology to the witch in front, and took Harry out to the sidewalk, away from the oncoming foot traffic. Harry cried and cried. Sirius swung Harry around, tossing him a couple inches in the air. It calmed him a little. Harry'll be a great Quidditch player, Sirius thought. But as soon as Sirius' arms got tired, Harry began blubbering again.

Sirius had been as proud as James when Harry had begun talking. A right smart lad he was, James had always said. But somehow today, hearing Harry cry, “Mama, mama, mama,” over and over again, only filled Sirius' chest with rocks.

Padfoot whimpers softly and nuzzles closer to Harry. Harry, in half-sleep, reaches out and grips Padfoot's fur in his hand.

Padfoot feels the nap Sirius had been awoken from climbing back into his eyes.

He has enough sense to change back into Sirius before he nods off completely.

Sirius is woken for a second time in one day. This time, to a sweater gently flapping itself against his bare shoulder. Sirius freezes when he realizes he can't feel Harry beside him.

“Harry?” Sirius calls.

“He's in here!” A voice calls back.

Sirius mollifies immediately. Thank the stars.

“Cripes, you!” Sirius says.

From the kitchen, his guest laughs. It's a hearty belly laugh; Sirius has always admired it.

Sirius nods at the sweater and it folds itself, laying itself on the arm of the couch.

“Can you teach me that one?” Sirius asks, gesturing to the sweater.

“'Course. After dinner?”

“Sure.”

Molly Weasley stands in the kitchen, making faces at Harry, who is laughing in his highchair. Around them, half a dozen pots and pans are cooking away, something thick and meaty that smells like heaven to Sirius' nose.

But-- 

“Harry doesn't eat meat,” Sirius reminds her.

“No me!” Harry says, banging his hand on the highchair table.

“No meat!” Sirius echoes.

“Right,” Molly says, “I know. I'm cooking for you, too.”

“Oh, you wonderful woman.”

Sirius slumps bonelessly into a kitchen chair. Molly sits down in the adjacent one.

“Ron's been on a toast kick the past few weeks, so I hope Harry likes it, too,” Molly says, slathering some honey onto a piece of bread, “You know, I think Bill and Charlie are teaching him naughty words.”

“Oh no,” Sirius says.

“I know. I don't want to know where they learned them,” She wrinkles her nose.

Sirius chuckles, “Certainly not you or Arthur,” He says, sarcastically.

“Oh, hush. I hold my tongue around them!”

“Sure,” Sirius says, “Well, if not you, it could be from Hogwarts.” Sirius remembers all the new swears he learned his first year, “His friends, I'd guess. He's a first year now, innit?”

Molly beams, “Yes! A Gryffindor, too. He says he's made some good friends, even. Much better than I did my first year, I tell you.”

“Bollocks, Arthur tells me you had made friends with half the dormitory by Christmas.”

“Well,” Molly says, ears turning red, “I was. But it took a while, see. What with Gid and Fabian being uh, such a presence, a lot of the folks who wanted to know me at first were, well, trying to get on Gid and Fabe's good side.”

“Ah,” Sirius nods.

“Yeah. It took me an embarrassingly long while to realize Rowle was full of it.”

“Thorfinn Rowle? Wasn't he a Slytherin?”

“He was. Ah, but I was optimistic in my youth.”

Sirius scoffs, “Your youth. You're what, thirty?”

“Thirty-one,” Molly says.

“See? You have loads of time to get old.”

“Let's hope,” Molly says.

Sirius stiffens, “Right.”

On that note, Sirius takes a look at Molly. She's thinner than when Sirius saw her last a few months ago, right after she had Ginevra. Not thin enough to be gaunt – Molly's always had heft about her – but her robes are hanging looser. Her eyes are stained with dark circles.

“How are you?” Sirius asks.

“Tired,” Molly says, finally.

“Yeah. Me, too.”

Sirius considers for a moment. “You didn't have to do all this, then.”

“Nonsense,” Molly says sharply, “You're my friend. Besides, it gives me peace of mind knowing Harry's in good hands.”

Sirius snorts, despite himself, “Right. Good hands.”

“Mm.”

They spend a moment in silence. Harry takes immense joy in watching the wooden spoon swirl around in a floating pot.

Molly eyes Sirius for a minute in the ensuing silence, “I like your tattoo.”

Sirius blinks. He glances down at his bicep. It's the moon, just a hair from full, cushioned against white-blue clouds.

“Thanks,” Sirius says, “It's, ah. Yeah. It was a graduation present to M-- myself. It changes with the real moon.”

“I see,” Molly says, “It's nice.”

“Thanks,” Sirius forces a grin.

Harry, suddenly aware that he's no longer the center of attention, starts to bang his fists on his highchair table.

“Mo! Mo! Mo!” Harry chants.

Sirius laughs, the tense atmosphere evaporated for the moment, “I think he wants you, Moll.”

Molly laughs, “That he does. C'mere, lovely boy.”


	4. Chapter 3

They don't hear anything for three days. Despite the constant surveillance, Marlene is getting bored.

“What time's Lupin coming by?” Marlene asks.

“Any minute now,” Dory answers.

Dory's got her eyes trained on the door, waiting for Lupin to announce himself. Marlene watches Dory watching the door. Despite her intense expression, she looks tired, too. Her eyes are heavy with sleeplessness. Her wand hand tremors ever-so-slightly.

The candle hovering by the door turns a bright green, and sure enough, a breath later there's the distinctive Order knock.

Dory takes the protective charms down and opens the door.

Lupin comes in, looking gaunt, skinnier than Marlene's ever seen him. He has a deep scratch on his left cheek that's just begun to scab over.

“Merlin's left tit, Lupin, who hung you out in a rainstorm?” Marlene asks.

Lupin huffs, “Nice to see you, too, Marlene.”

Edgar moves in front of Marlene.

“Don't mind her, Remus, she's just bored. Hasn't left the house in three days.”

“Ah,” Lupin says, as if he knows what that's like, “Sorry about last night, I wasn't feeling well.”

“What a time to get sick, eh!” Dory says, sounding cheery but casting a glance over to Marlene, “You're not gonna infect us, are you?”

“Ah, no. I'm feeling much better today, thank you.”

Marlene looks at the gash on his cheek but doesn't say anything. Lupin holds her eyes for a second before looking away, almost sheepish.

“So,” Marlene says, getting to the point, “Pettigrew.”

“Right. Pettigrew. You all worked wonders on those no-travel charms, by the by. A maintenance worker said he saw a strange figure in the sewers some four or five days ago. Then there was a report of things going missing around town. Food, clothes, the like. But no signs of forced entry, even magical. People've been advised to put up charms, but things are still going missing.”

“And you think it's Pettigrew?”

“I do. It's getting cold, and when we were at school, Peter's hated winter,” Lupin says, “Plus, he's... A smart wizard. There wasn't much he excelled in, but fitting in tight spaces has been one of them.”

“That makes sense,” Dory says, “I remember hearing about him falling out an Astronomy tower window at Hogwarts! And I could barely fit me arm through those, ya know.”

“Hm,” Edgar muses.

“Any idea what he's planning? Or why he's here of all places?”

“That's what I've been trying to figure out. There's a lot of old magic here. He could be trying to find something, or learn something.”

“Could be trying to bring back his old master,” Marlene muses.

“That's a solid theory.”

“Do you think it's something else?” Edgar asks, peering at Lupin.

Lupin hesitates, “Maybe. I've been here for a while, it's possible Pettigrew found out where I am.”

“What've you got to do with anything?” Dory asks.

“Well,” Lupin says, “We were friends in school. And he tried to frame, ah, another friend of ours – for... for what happened to the Potters.”

“No!” Edgar says, “Black?”

“Yes. Him. So, Pettigrew may be trying to... I don't know. I don't know what he would want with me.”

“Frame you for murder?” Marlene asks.

Lupin snorts, despite the seriousness of the situation.

“It's possible.”

“We'll keep you safe, Remus,” Edgar says, “If that's really what he's planning.”

“Right,” Marlene says, after some hesitation, “So, how can we find him?”

“We'll have to draw him out, I think. He won't come willingly.”

“Alright,” Dory says, “What attracts a rat?”

Lupin makes a choking noise.

Marlene pulls her cloak closer around her middle. It's not that she doesn't like this plan. She does. She just doesn't trust it. She gets the sense that Lupin isn't telling them everything. It's the same feeling she got around him before, that she couldn't see him properly when she looked at him, but intensified tenfold. Lupin is _hiding_ something, Marlene's sure of it.

But Marlene puts her suspicions aside as best she can. If what Lupin said is true and he and Peter were friends in school, Lupin is a good person to have an an ally. Besides, it's the best chance they have.

Marlene sees Lupin enter the cafe across the way. She waits the requisite two minutes before following. A couple people look at her funny when she goes in. Good. The cloak Lupin gave her was was old, but the pattern was distinctly London. No wizards this far north have anything like it. It's too bright anyway, despite being a muted red. It was clear that even if Peter didn't recognize her, he'll know she didn't belong here.

Lupin waves to her. Marlene waves back and goes to hug him. He really is skin and bones.

“It's good to see you, Bel,” Lupin says. Belinda Burrowright, that was who Marlene was today. An old acquantaince of Lupin's from his childhood. Family friend, that sort of thing, “Thanks for coming all this way.”

“Of course,” Marlene says, “Anything for an old friend.”

“Thank you. How's your husband?”

“Oh, he's fine. Working overtime at the Ministry. But who isn't these days?”

“Right.”

“You seem tired.” Marlene says. It's true. Whatever sickness he'd come down with the other night clearly hasn't gone away. He looks like he hasn't slept in weeks.  
Lupin's look darkens. If Marlene didn't know he was acting, she would've believed it. Her suspicion deepens.

“I'm fine,” Lupin insists, “Really, fine.”

“Right,” Marlene makes herself sound suspicious. It isn't hard, “So what's all this you couldn't tell me in a letter?”

“Right,” Lupin looks away, sheepish, “Sorry about that. I would've told you if I could, you know that.” Lupin leans forward conspiratorially, “I've been doing some digging in the old archives.”

“The ones I saw on my flight in?”

“Yes, the very same. Up on those cliffs that face the sunrise. I came across something really interesting.”

“Yeah?”

“A transmogrification stone.”

Marlene gasps for real, “No!”

“Yes. I couldn't be sure if it was the real thing at first, you know. But I did a lot of reading, and apparently it was donated way back in the 17th century by some witch named – Oh, damn, what was it? Esme? Ermessende! Ermessende Lestrange.”

“Oh, wow,” Marlene gasps. Lupin hadn't mentioned any of this in the plan. He just said to go along with whatever he said. But Marlene never expected this! “Those are rare.”

“They are. And powerful, too. I think he--” Lupin drops his voice, “may be trying to use it. It could bring his master into a physical form from almost nothing.”

Marlene nods.

“And it's at the archive?”

Lupin hesitates. “Well...”

“No!”

“Look, Bel, I had a nice long chat with the archivist witch. She was a lovely lady, but she wouldn't let me take it without proper documentation.” Lupin looks sheepish, as if that's not all the witch had said.

“Is that what they're calling 'being in need of a shower and a good night's sleep' these days?”

Lupin blushes. “Perhaps.”

“So it's... missing from the archive? Won't that raise alarms?”

“Well, I didn't just nab it if that's what you mean. I left a decoy in it's place. It's amazing what you can do with a bit of Muggle paint these days.”

Marlene looks at Lupin, a little dumbfounded. She doesn't think it's merely an act.

“So, where...?”

Lupin raises his eyebrows.

Before he can answer, however, a witch walking into the cafe screams.

“A rat!” She shouts.

The barista behind the bar shouts as well, pointing his wand at the woman's feet, where Marlene sees a rat scurrying out. “That in't no rat! That's an Animagus!”


	5. Chapter 4

Sirius stares at the parchment in front of him. It really shouldn't be this hard, Sirius thinks.

_Hey Remus, sorry we haven't spoken in months and two of our best friends are dead. How've you been?_

_Hey Remus, sorry I've been avoiding you during the full moon, hope you haven't torn your face off yet._

_Hey Moony_

Sirius crumples up the parchment and throws it near the wastebasket. He runs his hands through his hair. Merlin's hairy dick and balls.

Sirius unceremoniously gives up.

He goes to the bedroom, where Harry is resting in his crib. Harry makes a happy noise when Sirius comes in.

“Hey... Sparky?” Sirius says, “No, that's dumb.”

Harry doesn't seem to mind.

“How's my favorite little man?” Sirius asks, “Merlin's beard, Sirius, when did you become a Muggle telleyvision dad?”

Harry looks up at him.

“You wanna go on your broomstick?” Sirius asks.

Harry smiles at him. Sirius takes this as a yes, and scoops the boy up.

The house he's isn't from the Order, technically. It's a rarely used summer home of one of the Weasley's distant cousins' sister-in-law's cat, or something. Regardless, it's much better suited for a young kid than Sirius' apartment had been. Sirius was barely there to begin with, between Order missions and full moons. But this new place is nice. It's two bedrooms and an office, with a fenced-in backyard. The yard is overgrown, but Sirius looks out the back window and imagines all the possibilities come summer.

Most of the furniture came from the original owner, meaning it had been forgotten about before Harry was born. Sirius has learned more cleaning spells in his first few weeks here then he had ever used in his life. The rest of the furniture and whatnot it is transported from the Potter's, especially Harry's things. Sirius figured they'd give him a modicum of comfort in a strange new place.

That being what it is, Sirius pulls open the downstairs closet door with one hand and digs around until he finds Harry's practice broom. It's the same one he gave Harry for his birthday over the summer. What a lifetime ago that was.

Harry makes grabby hands at the broom as soon as Sirius pulls it out.

“Almost,” He assures Harry.

Sirius puts a disguise spell on Harry – not one that changes his appearance, but that makes him unremarkable to anyone who may pass by. Sirius puts on Harry's shoes and jacket – with Harry sticking his limbs out helpfully.

It's a crisp day out, nippy but on the refreshing side of cold. Sirius checks that no one's around, then squats down so he's at eye level with Harry.

“Harry, I have a very important question to ask you,” Sirius says, “Do you want to play with Padfoot?”

“Afoo!” Harry cries. “Afoo!”

“Hell yes,” Sirius says, and transforms.

Oh _yes_. Padfoot loves this weather. The cool fall air spiraling through his fur.

Padfoot picks the toy broom up in his mouth. Harry grabs onto the fur at the nape of Padfoot's neck. Padfoot walks slowly beside Harry, as Harry wobbles across the yard. Padfoot wags his tail.

When they reach the middle of the yard, Padfoot drops the broom. Harry grabs it in his little hand and tries to swing his leg over. He falls down. He gets up, wobbly. Padfoot nudges Harry with his nose. Harry leans on Padfoot and tries again. It takes a few more tries, but Harry only falls the once. Once he's situated on the broom, something in him relaxes.

Padfoot can smell the joy. The broom starts to rise. Harry grins.

“Fy!” Harry says.

Padfoot barks.

The broom rises until Harry's feet are a few centimeters off the ground. Padfoot sticks his butt up and wags his tail hard. Harry laughs.

He flies around the yard, slowly at first, then as fast as the broom will go. Thankfully, Padfoot can keep up at only a brisk walk. He bounces and leaps alongside Harry. Harry shouts with joy. Padfoot barks.

Harry winds up taking a dozen laps around the yard. Padfoot follows loyally, barking when Harry starts going too fast. When Harry lands, his hair is sticking up at all angles, revealing the bright scar creeping down his forehead.

Padfoot checks his surroundings, and transforms.

Harry giggles at Sirius kneeling on all fours in the grass.

“Did you have fun?” Sirius asks, picking Harry up and swinging him around.

Harry shouts with joy again. Sirius takes the boy and blows a raspberry on his tummy. Harry laughs.

On the way back inside, Harry leans on Sirius's chest and closes his eyes. Sirius takes the protection spell off and leans down to smell Harry's curly hair. He smells like baby and flowery shampoo and Harry. Sirius presses a kiss there. Yeah, there was no way Sirius was going to let Harry grow up with Muggles. This was where he belonged.

Harry falls asleep on Sirius's shoulder. Sirius decides to hold onto him while he cleans up. Sirius tosses a few cleaning spells at the kitchen and the living room. Harry's toys all make their way back into the large toy bin in the corner. The dishes suds themselves. The wizard romance novel Sirius was reading bookmarks itself and flies back on the crooked shelf next to the toy bin. Sirius isn't sure if he likes that one just yet.

The Muggle romance novels are much more interesting, he's decided. There are cowboys and computer engineers and something called a chimney sweep. Apparently Muggles don't have house elves, something that Sirius didn't believe when Lily first told him. But it seems like Muggles have more options of careers they can get bored with that wizards.

Plus, at least if Sirius digs enough, he can find Muggle romance stories about men being together. There's the occasional wizard one, sure, but they've never got the heart.

Sirius lets the bookshelf straighten itself up and takes Harry upstairs. Harry's room is just down the hall from Sirius', and most of it is still half in boxes. Maybe Sirius should move Harry's crib into his room.

James and Lily – a dark feeling settles into the bottom of Sirius' stomach when he thinks about them – would let Harry sleep in their bed sometimes. Sirius thinks it's basically the same thing. Besides, he doesn't like having Harry so far away. The distance between their rooms is an ocean, if something were to happen.

Sirius decides to think it over, about thirty seconds before he realizes he's already magicking the crib down the hallway.

It fits well, in between Sirius' private bathroom and the closet. It's got tall white bars on the sides, and by the looks of it, either James or Lily had started painting magical creatures on the inside, but never got to finish. Maybe both. Maybe they had both sat around the crib one Saturday and argued over who would get to paint the Hippogriff, and who would paint the dragon. James would insist the dragon be Gryffindor colors regardless, and Lily would've laughed and painted his nose gold.

Sirius had grown to love them together. He had always loved James, and as he got to know Lily, he loved her too. She had a wicked streak a kilometer wide, and could sling so many puns on the spot that Sirius' head spun.

Once the two of them settled down, James settled down too. As much as Sirius was loathe to admit it at first, Lily made James better. Sirius could see the growth in him even a few months into their relationship. And vice versa. Lily laughed harder with James than Sirius had ever seen her laugh with anyone else. One time over dinner, James made a joke and Lily laughed so hard she almost threw up. They were still only dating at the time, but the look on James' face when Lily was laughing... Sirius thinks that was the night James decided he was going to marry her.

Sirius had meant to ask him about it, he just never got around to it. He thought he had time. He did have time, until he didn't.

Sirius takes a deep breath. The air in the house is stale and just on the wrong side of warm.

He takes another deep breath. And another. And another. And another.

Harry sleeps soundlessly in his crib. The half-painted dragon bounds around the inside of the crib, it's scales shimmering.

“I'll finish you up,” He tells the dragon. The dragon tilts it's head at Sirius, “A proper dragon needs a tail, after all.”

The dragon wriggles happily, and goes back to walking around the side of the crib. Occasionally, it blows a small puff of fire.

“Ey,” Sirius says, “None of that while he's sleeping.”

The dragon looks down. It puffs smoke out of it's nose instead.

“Much better.”

Sirius leaves the door cracked on his way out, and heads back downstairs.


	6. Chapter 5

Animagus! Marlene barely has time to register the word before she's on her feet. Half a dozen other witches and wizards are flying after the rat, tossing spell after spell in his direction. Marlene and Lupin are close behind.

A rat! Peter Pettigrew was a rat! Literally. That must be what Lupin didn't want to tell us, Marlene thinks. He must've known Peter was an Animagus. Is Lupin one, too?

The crowd flies out of the cafe and down the road. The cold cuts Marlene's cheeks. The rat is hard to see, a scrawny gray dot against the old cobblestone.

As they run, a witch running beside them asks where Peter could be headed.

“My apartment. I've been staying at 15 Crown Avenue,” Lupin says, “I have something he wants.”

The witch nods and makes the announcement into her watch. A handful of other voices come back to her.

“I'm a block away. Me and Brown can block off the entrance,” A wizard's voice says.

“There's a door around the back, too,” Lupin says. The witch repeats the message.

“Got it,” The man on the other end says.

The cold makes Marlene's throat hurt. Peter darts behind trash bins and carts. He takes strange turns and zig-zags around alleyways.

“Is this how we get there?” Marlene asks as Peter turns down a side street. If Marlene remembers correctly, Crown Avenue is in the northwest corner of town, and Peter is heading east.

“No,” Lupin says, his voice betraying worry.

Suddenly, Peter veers into a small alleyway. Marlene follows. The alleyway ends abruptly in a brick wall. The rat stops and turns around. Marlene, Lupin, the Auror witch, and a wizard all corner him, wands at the ready. The rat's eyes dart. Sensing no exit, there's a flash, and the rat transforms into a small, dirty man.

“Pettigrew,” The Auror whispers.

Peter Pettigrew is in even worse shape than Lupin. His scraggly beard is going gray, and his fingernails are long and yellowing. He's physically dirty; He looks like he hasn't seen a shower in weeks. He probably hasn't, Marlene thinks. 

Peter smiles a wry smile. He takes his wand out of his pocket and drops it. The Auror wizard kicks it away from Peter. Peter puts his hands up, but he is holding something in one of them. Something small and round.

“Put that down!” Lupin says.

Peter doesn't move.

“Did you hear him?” A witch to Marlene's left says. She glances over to Lupin, confused, but presses on, “He said put that down, you vermin!”

Peter takes a pointed look at Lupin. Marlene hears Lupin swallow, “I don't think you want me to do that, Remus,” Peter says mildly.

“You don't get to call me that,” Lupin says.

Peter scoffs.

“Is that the –?” Marlene whispers.

“Yes,” Lupin whispers back.

Marlene gasps.

Peter looks at her. His eyes are beady and cold.

“Oh? I think your friend knows what this is,” Peter says. He looks back at Lupin and his smile grows, “Did you tell her?”

The Auror witch throws a stunning spell at Peter, but Peter ducks.

“Does she know it's keeping her safe right now? It's keeping all of you safe?” Peter says.

Marlene glances at Lupin again, who's face has lost what little color it had.

“What's he on about?” The Auror wizard asks.

Lupin shakes his head.

“You fools,” Peter says, “I'm not the dangerous one here!”

“You're a monster,” The Auror woman spits.

“Me?” Peter says, acting surprised, “No, my dear. I'm not the monster.”

Peter drops the stone in his hands. It seems to fall in slow motion. Marlene turns to Lupin, who shouts something wordless.

Peter, however, shouts a spell, “Belua revelare! Belua revelare!”

The Auror wizard casts another stunning spell, which hits Peter by the ear.

But it's too late.

Beside Marlene, Lupin has dropped to the ground.


	7. Chapter 6

There's a loud rapping on Sirius' window. A large, tawny owl flaps its wings and glares at Sirius impatiently. Sirius rolls over. It's not even light out. Sirius drags himself to the window and lets the bird in. It flaps melting snow off onto Sirius' bed. Sirius scrubs his face with his hands. The owl nips at his him when he reaches to untie the letter. Blearily, Sirius realizes he doesn't recognize the beast.

The letter jumps when Sirius peels it open. It speaks in a gentle – albeit nervous – witch's voice:

“Hello Mister Black, my name is Marianne Bulstrode from Saint Mungo's. I'm writing on behalf of a patient who recently came into our care, a mister Remus J. Lupin. I apoloize for the inconvenience, but we had attempted to reach out to his other emergency contacts and they were all unavailable.”

_James and Lily,_ Sirius thinks bitterly, _Yeah, they're dead._

“I am required to inform you Remus showed up in our care after an incident of a sensitive nature.”

Sirius leans forward.

“I am not at liberty to discuss it here,” The letter continues, “But if you could come as soon as possible, Mister Lupin is being held at Saint Mungo's on the fourth floor, room 12J.”

The letter goes on to describe the hospital's new security measures. Sirius pales listening to them, realizing he won't be able to put any disguise charms on Harry while he's there. The letter thanks Sirius for his promptness, and say he needn't send a reply. It ends shortly thereafter, and tears itself up.

The owl looks at him. Sirius grabs the beast a snack and sends it on its way, leaving Sirius alone with his thoughts. He does the math. The full moon was almost a week ago now, so whatever happened must have been after that. That's a relief, at least. Last Sirius heard Remus had been away on Order business. But that was over four months ago now. A lump rises in Sirius' throat. Shit. Would Remus even want to see him? After everything?

Sirius hesitates for a moment.

Fuck it, Sirius decides. Remus can kick him out if he wants, but Sirius has to try.

“Good plan,” Sirius mutters to himself.

All the commotion seems to have roused Harry from sleep. He stands up in his crib and burbles at Sirius. Sirius ruffles his hair.

“Ready to go on an adventure?” Sirius says. Harry wiggles up and down excitedly.

A little while later, Sirius apparates onto the Saint Mungo's steps, Harry strapped to his chest. Sirius did the disguise charm anyway. Surely a baby wouldn't be suspicious. Sirius swallows. The hospital bustles with people. Sirius goes up to a wizard at the front desk, who looks Sirius up and down, the corner of his mouth twitching downward.

“Um, I got a letter,” Sirius explains, “From uh, Bulstrode? About a friend of mine.”

The wizard, a stout balding man, makes a non-committal noise and digs through a stack of papers on his desk.

“Name?”

“Black. Sirius Black.”

The man looks at him again, with a little more interest.

“I see. Have you been into contact with any Billywigs, Bowtruckles, or Crups in the last two weeks?”

“No.”

“Any exposure to and mind-altering potions?”

Sirius shakes his head.

“Alright. Step through there,” The wizard points Sirius through a small door where a witch dressed in sleek black robes is waiting. Sirius smiles nervously.  
They test his wand for the last three spells performed. The woman looks at him curiously.

“I uh--” Sirius starts, rubbing the back of his head, “The distraction spell was just for the kid's sake. You know how some people can be."

The witch manages to make a nod seem grumpy.

“Fine.”

She does a few more tests before declaring him fit for entry. “Do you know where you're going?” She asks.

“I do,” Sirius says, despite having no idea. The witch nods him off.

Sirius wanders through a couple hallways before he finds a staircase. It goes up two flights before it stops. When he steps out, he's greeted with a few distant wails, and a group of mediwitches rush past him. Sirius prickles. He hates hospitals.

Sirius goes down another few hallways before finally asking a mediwizard directions. Sirius's legs are smarting by the time he gets to the right floor. When he steps out, he is greeted with utter silence. The ceilings are high, and the lighting is pale. The sun has started to rise, striping the floors with long golden strips. The rooms are all several meters apart, and no one is milling in the hallway. Sirius swallows again and approaches the front desk. A witch nurse is scribbling notes on a pad.

“Um,” Sirius says.

“You can go right in,” The witch says.

Right. Sirius' feet feel like lead. Harry shifts in his sleep.

12 D... 12 E... It feels like a lifetime that Sirius makes it to 12 J. His heart is pounding. He goes to open the door, but it's yanked open before he can.

“Name?” A mediwitch says. She's tall, and pointing her wand at Sirius.

“Black. I got a letter from Bulstrode to come here.” 

“I see.” She raises the wand higher. “What did Remus give you for Christmas when you were eleven?”

“Muggle itching powder,” Sirius says calmly.

The witch nods and lowers her wand, “Thank you.” She lets him in.

The room is small, with a window overlooking the roof of another wing of the hospital. In the corner bed, Remus Lupin is fast asleep. Sirius' heart squeezes. Remus is gaunt, pale, and if Sirius isn't mistaken, his hair has started falling out.

“What happened?” Sirius asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

The witch gestures to a chair near the bed, “Have a seat, Mister Black.”

Sirius does, adjusting Harry slowly so as not to wake him. Marianne pulls up a second chair and sits nearly knee-to-knee with Sirius, and leans forward conspiratorially.

“Thank you for getting here so quickly. I'm Marianne, the one who sent the letter. There was an incident a few nights ago, and Mister Lupin was brought in by a friend of his. He is stable now, but from what I understand, Lupin had gotten into a fight, and during this time a powerful transformation spell was placed on him. The mediwizards are not sure exactly what the spell was, but it was meant to reveal a--” She drops her voice “-- a wizard's true form.”

Oh fuck.

“No,” Sirius gasps.

Marianne nods, “Yes. And Mister Lupin was revealed to be a werewolf.”

Fuck.

Sirius wrinkles his brow, “Shit.”

“Yes. The forced transformation weakened him considerably, and his friend was able to stun him. By the time they brought him here, he had already changed back.”

“But he's – is he okay? What does this mean?”

“He is stable,” Marianne explains, “He only transforms during the full moon, usually, and is harmless otherwise. We do not think there will be any lasting effects of the spell. But... due to the nature of Mister Lupin's condition... he will have to report here every full moon, unless other accommodations can be made. He will have free roam of the wizarding world otherwise, but you must understand that... if anything were to happen during his transformations...”

“He would be responsible for it.” Sirius finishes.

“Yes.”

Sirius leans back in his seat, and runs his hands through his hair. In his holder, Harry clenches and unclenches his fist. Sirius lets out a long, low whistle.

“I understand this is a lot to take in. We have some people who can help him find --”

“I'll do it.”

Marianne blinks. “Oh?”

“Yeah. He's my friend. I'll – I have room in my house. I'll figure it out,” Sirius says. He doesn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth. “Besides, how much help can your people really be?”

Marianne is quiet for a moment. “Indeed,” she says finally.

Remus shifts in his sleep. He lets out a quiet, broken sound.

Sirius sighs.

“Very well,” Marianne says, “He should be waking up soon. Would you like to wait here?”

“Yes. Please.”

Marianne nods. She asks if Sirius needs anything. Water? Coffee? Sirius orders a coffee, black. “And formula, if it's not too much to ask.” He gestures down to Harry, who is blinking awake and beginning to squirm.

Marianne leaves. Sirius unclips the now-awake Harry and puts him down. Harry immediately stumbles forward and slams chest first into Marianne's chair. Sirius lurches forward, expecting Harry to start crying, but Harry just blinks, waits a moment as if assessing the situation, and slams himself again. He giggles. Sirius chuckles. What a strange kid he's inherited. They get into a bit of a rhythm, Harry slamming himself onto the soft part of the chair, and stumbling back into Sirius, who tosses him forward gently.

Sirius hardly notices when Marianne comes back with their drinks.

“How old is he?” Marianne asks, setting Sirius' coffee down on the bedside table. Sirius jumps.

“Uh. Sixteen months.”

“He's adorable.”

“Thanks.”

Marianne leaves shortly thereafter. A wizard keeps post outside the door and tell Sirius to shout if he needs anything. Sirius thanks him.

The coffee is incredible. Actually, it's shit, it's burnt to hell, and five degrees too hot, but Sirius really doesn't care. It gets his blood flowing again. Sirius sits Harry on Marianne's chair and gives him his formula, which he drinks eagerly. While he drinks, Sirius takes the opportunity to look around. Remus has a chart pinned to the wall behind him, illegible notes about his condition, his measurements, things of that nature. There are potions laid out on the table nearest the window, with more illegible instructions on when and how much Remus should take.

Sirius hesitates before looking at Remus. He's asleep, body turned slightly towards the window. He has more scars littering his body than Sirius remembers, along with a stupid wisp of a mustache that wasn't there last time Sirius saw him. His hair is almost as greasy as Snivellus'. Sirius reaches out to brush Remus' hair out of his eyes. He hesitates. In that second, Remus moans, and his eyes flutter open for a second before closing again.

Before Sirius can decide what to do about his friend, Harry decides he's finished with his formula and throws the bottle across the room, where it bursts open and splatters all over Sirius' chair. Harry screeches and claps his little hands.

“Damn it, Harry.” Sirius legs it back across the room and does a vanishing spell. Harry keeps clapping. Somehow, he managed to get formula in his hair. Sirius holds off on a second vanishing spell, since last time he tried that Harry ended up bald. Instead, Sirius wets his fingers with his tongue and wipes the goop off with his hands. Harry apparently doesn't like this method, and shakes his head to get Sirius to stop. “If you just stay still, this'd be over faster.” Sirius tells him through gritted teeth.

“Having trouble?” A voice from behind him asks.

Sirius whirls around to see Remus, awake, smiling at them from his hospital bed.

“Moony,” Sirius breathes.


	8. Chapter 7

Marlene sighs. She stares down at the table intently, as if it's coffee stains will reveal the secrets of the universe if she looks at them long enough.

“Fuck,” She sighs.

“I know. I do not like the sound of this at all,” Kingsley says, his long robes swishing as he goes to sit down. He nods at Edgar seated beside him.

“I just--” Marlene starts, “Does Dumbledore know? He must know. Why would he let someone like Lupin in if he knew-- I just don't understand--” Marlene sighs.

“I expect we will find out shortly.”

Marlene pushes off from the table and runs her hands through her hair. She can't believe it. Lupin! A werewolf! Marlene has wracked her brains all night, replaying every interaction she had with him. They were few and far between – she was a couple years ahead of him in school, and Marlene was more focused on her OWLs than some scrawny second-year. Since the founding of the Order, she and Lupin had gone on a few missions together. He struck her as reserved, but resourceful. Maybe a little mysterious, but they all were, these days.

Nothing else had really stuck out about him. The thought doesn't make Marlene feel better.

“Ah, here's the man'a the hour,” She hears Edgar say.

Sure enough, Dumbledore enters the room with a flourish. His silver hair is tied back messily into a braid, and his robes are rumpled. He eyes the group over his half-moon spectacles. Even for Dumbledore, in all his infinite wisdom, he looks tired.

“Well?” Marlene asks, hands on her hips.

“I expect you have many questions,” Dumbledore says, raising his hands. It makes Marlene's blood boil.

“You're damn right we do! Did you know?” Marlene demands, “Why would you let someone so dangerous – we went on missions with him! And all this time he – he was a – and you didn't think to tell any of us?!”

Dumbledore's eyes shine patiently. Marlene hates him. “I would have told you if it became pertinent,” Dumbledore explains, “As it was, Remus was more than capable of handling his responsibilities. Are you going to deny a man his privacy, McKinnon?”

Marlene huffs, “I – He's dangerous, Albus!” 

“I assure you, I place my utmost trust in Remus Lupin.”

“Really?” Edgar cuts in, “Is that why he looked like hell?”

Dumbledore looks at him imploringly.

“Yeah, he looked like he hadn't seen a proper night sleep in weeks when we saw him. What sorta missions were you sending him on?” Edgar presses, standing up. Kingsley furrows his brow as well.

Dumbledore looks down, “I see.” He clears his throat, pausing to consider his words, “Lupin had... requested time away from Order matters to do some private research. But he would have had access to all Order accommodations while he did so.”

“'Private matters'? So he could be in league with You-Know-Who!” Marlene spits.

“Miss McKinnon--”

“Merlin's arse, Dumbledore! You're a daft old man!”

Marlene storms past him, the door slamming on her way out.

Dorcas is in the kitchen, looking bleary-eyed. Marlene folds her arms across her chest.

“Dumbledore's really fucked this one up,” Marlene explains.

Dorcas nods and opens the fridge.

“Miss McKinnon,” A voice says from behind her.

Marlene rolls her eyes, “What, Dumbledore?”

“There will be time to be angry later. And I will hear you out then,” Dumbledore says, and looks like he means it, “But we need you now.”

“What for?”

“You were present when Remus was attacked.”

Oh, right.

Marlene chews her bottom lip, “Fine.”

They go back into the meeting room. She can feel the men's eyes on her without looking at them. She stares at a faint crack in the far wall.

“Miss McKinnon,” Dumbledore says, “Why don't you tell us what happened?”

Marlene sighs. She explains their conversation, the chase, and how Lupin had been transformed. She was able to stun him, but not before he swiped her arm with his claws.

Marlene rubs the offending scars while she talks. They hadn't done a healing spell in time, so the wound would scar.

“And Pettigrew?” Dumbledore urges.

Marlene flushes, “Got away. He's an Animagus, sir. A rat. That's why it's been so hard to find him.” Marlene dares to look at Dumbledore, who's nodding thoughtfully.

“I see. Anything else?”

“I brought Remus to Saint Mungo's. Not sure what they'll do now.” There's a beat of silence, “That's all. Sir.”

“Thank you,” Dumbledore says, “This has certainly been an interesting development.”

Edgar lets out a rough laugh, “I'll say.”

“Indeed,” Kingsley muses.

Marlene stares at the table again while they all contemplate their next move. There are no secrets hidden in the wood.


End file.
